Ruby and Sun
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Ch. 5: Kate figured out long ago that had the two of them met, Johanna would have absolutely loved Rick Castle and immediately started dropping subtle hints like So Katie, when's the wedding? Caskett.
1. Chapter 1

**Ruby and Sun**

**Summary**: When resistance fades. Glimpses of a relationship beginning to glow.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13ish. Nothing too scandalous.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own the characters or anything related to _Castle_, nor did I write this poem. This work is written for enjoyment and not for profit.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I know this excerpt of the poem from a beautiful musical setting by Gwyneth Walker, which I played for a soprano's recital at undergrad. And for some odd reason I just revisited it the other day, and suddenly understood it perfectly. And this sort of grew from that.

* * *

><p>In the early morning light, just before dawn, lover and beloved awake and take a drink of water.<p>

She asks, Do you love me or yourself more? Really. Tell the absolute truth.

He says_, _There's nothing left of me. I'm like a ruby held up to the sunrise.

It has no resistance to sunlight.

The ruby and the sunrise are one.

* * *

><p>She buttoned her coat as they walked out into the brisk air. "Well, that's one way to respond."<p>

Castle shook his head. "She actually drove all the way to the Finger Lakes to get rid of what she _thought_ was the murder weapon?"

Beckett shrugged. "She thought he was guilty. Didn't want him to go to prison for it."

"And Juliet saved Romeo. Well, tried to. Since he wasn't actually guilty."

"People do stupid things for love."

"True."

They got into the car, but she paused for a second before putting her keys in the ignition. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"What wouldn't you do for me?"

There was a moment of silence. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I wouldn't let you put yourself in danger."

She swallowed the smile trying to blossom through her lips. But she just couldn't help it. Because she knew he was telling the truth. He'd already proven that he'd risk his life for her. He'd attack someone trying to hurt her. He'd part with his money to help her. He'd risk her anger to save her life.

Now that she really thought about it, she couldn't think of anything else he'd proven unwilling to do for her.

"There's nothing else you wouldn't do for me?"

"Nothing I can think of."

She turned the car on and tried to ignore the way his face lit up as he watched her. Because he hadn't said anything she didn't already know.

* * *

><p>Poem: <em>The Sunrise Ruby<em> by Rumi


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Kate had been having an awful day.

Castle had seen the signs. She was walking a little quicker than usual. Her voice was a little strained. She'd been too quiet, only briefly giving him a tight smile when he walked in. She'd faintly smiled at one joke today – _one_, and he'd considered himself to be in fine form – and not even acknowledged the others. He knew she'd gotten a papercut earlier, she'd spilled her coffee, and the slight pinch in her forehead and squint of her eyes seemed to suggest she had a headache. And he was pretty sure he'd seen something in her pocket when she went to the ladies' room.

But that still didn't quite explain it. Ignoring the slight creepiness he felt at being so comfortably aware of her cycle (he could tell immediately whenever it was 'that time'), he didn't think that was quite it. The anniversary of Johanna's murder was four months, two weeks and a day away, so that wasn't it either. He wasn't sure. He just knew she was having a horrible day.

Compounding it was the fiery upbraiding she'd gotten from Gates after lunch, during which she'd only picked at her food. One of the uniforms at the scene yesterday, a rookie, had accidentally contaminated a piece of evidence. It now appeared that this piece was crucial. So a seriously displeased Gates let Beckett have it.

But the worst part, Castle realized as he sat outside helplessly and watched, was that Beckett didn't say a word. Kate was always defiant, always strong-willed. But now, nothing. She stood motionless, stone-faced, giving no reaction other than a tight jaw to the vicious cuts at her competence, her intelligence, her entire career. She just took it.

She walked out past him without looking at him, and he watched, his stomach knotted, as she headed for her desk, grabbed her notes, and went into interrogation, where her suspect had just arrived. He moved to follow her, but she paused at the door, her face blank. "Castle – could you not? Just this time."

Normally he'd argue, but today, he just nodded.

And naturally, the one day he let her go in alone was the one day there was a problem. He had only just settled down in his chair, folded his hands and started thinking about what kind of origami flower she might like to find on her desk, when he heard yelling and saw a flood of uniforms running into interrogation.

The chaos died down quickly, leaving him standing by his chair, looking around nervously, not sure what to do. Usually he let Beckett tell him what to do. But now he wasn't sure where she was.

Esposito and Ryan came strolling back to their desks and saw him looking antsy. "Hey, Castle. Relax, just a little scuffle. Nothing serious."

"What happened? Where's Beckett?"

Ryan shrugged. "Not sure. She kind of took off."

"Probably up to storage. It's quiet, no one goes up there. Good place to avoid the dragon lady."

"What _happened?_ She was just in interrogation – "

"Interrogation went south. Guy snapped. Actually got hands on her before she managed to throw him down," Ryan said. "It wasn't pretty. But she's fine."

"Bastard's in holding where he belongs now."

Castle shifted uneasily on his feet. He needed to go check on her _now_. "I should go talk to her."

"I don't know, man. She's in a bad mood today." Esposito shook his head. "She's not like this often. I mostly stay out of her way."

Luckily, Castle had never been good at doing the smart thing.

He followed Esposito's directions and found himself in the mostly deserted upper floor, cluttered with old desktop computers, slightly broken chairs and boxes full of who-knows-what. And sure enough, there was a conference room across the hallway.

He cautiously opened the door, leaning in quietly, and stared in stunned disbelief at Kate Beckett, who was sitting on the floor, back to the wall. Her head was in her hands. She was silently crying.

His heart twisted, because Kate defeated was a sight he never, ever wanted to see.

He stepped inside, making sure his footsteps were loud enough to hear, but soft enough not to startle her. She didn't look up. Definitely a bad sign. Regular Kate not only wouldn't be crying, she wouldn't let him see it.

So Castle took his life into his hands (seeing as its greatest purpose was to help her anyway) and sat beside her, tentatively setting his hand on her shoulder, slowly turning her towards him. And she didn't pull away, didn't stop him, which he'd half expected. She actually nestled against him, settling against his chest, burying her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shoulders trembling against him, the slow gasp of her breath against his chest.

Knowing he couldn't end it himself, Castle wisely let her cry herself out, feeling the slowing of her pulse, the deepening and steadying of her breath against him.

Finally, as she calmed and her breathing got calmer, he decided to see if she wanted to talk. "You want to tell me what's wrong?"

She swallowed, opening her curled fist to show him her necklace, her mother's ring. The chain had snapped, the clasp broken. Castle felt his chest ache. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the irrational desire to pull her tighter against him and not let go until she decided to marry him.

He probably wouldn't let her go even then. Just to be safe.

He settled for picking up the broken chain, examining the ends. "It broke?"

"He caught it when he reached for me. It just snapped."

He swallowed. No wonder she'd been crying. He rubbed her back gently. "I'm sorry. I really am."

She shook her head, her eyes welling up. "It's stupid. I don't know why I just lost it. It's just a necklace."

"It's not stupid. We both know that. But you still have her ring. She's still with you, Kate. You haven't lost her."

Watching her for permission, he slowly took the ring from her, holding it up to the light. He'd never gotten to look at it this closely. It was simple. Beautiful. Perfect.

Just like her.

"Here. Till we fix it for real."

He took her right hand and slid the ring carefully onto her finger. It was a little big, but the fit was close enough. She looked down at it, running her thumb slowly over the metal. Engagement rings always felt uncomfortable at first.

"Thanks, Castle." Her smile was a little watery, but when she looked back up at him, his heart warmed. Her smile was real. And this close, it was devastating.

She rested her head on his shoulder again, her body leaning softly against his. They fell silent for a while.

After a few minutes, he felt her take a deep breath, her ribs expanding against his as she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Sorry – I didn't mean to just collapse on you."

"Consider me your personal airbag. I'm even interactive."

Kate chuckled and leaned back against the wall, stretching her neck, the spot on his shoulder immediately missing her warmth, and he couldn't stop himself. He reached for her face, carefully catching a few stray tears with his thumb, wiping them away. She let out a shaky sigh.

"You want to go back down?"

She shook her head, settling back aginst him. "Can we just stay for a minute?"

"As long as you want." He pressed a soft kiss to her hair, almost hoping she didn't notice. If she did, she didn't mind. He felt her fingers curl around his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He threaded his fingers through hers.

Castle rubbed her arm softly, looking down at her hand in his, the diamond ring sparkling in the soft half-light. And it occurred to him that regardless of her hesitation, she couldn't change the fact that really, they were lovers already.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He has only been asleep for a few short hours when his phone rings, and criminals don't seem to understand that Richard Castle is very tired right now because he had a late night and could they just wait a few hours, please?

But when Beckett calls, he obeys, so though it's obscenely early, he peels himself out of bed and stands under the shower to wake himself up. Last night he'd been presented the prestigious Named For Someone He's Never Heard Of Literary Award, complete with giant reception, lights, cameras, glitz, the works. Gina was thrilled; they'd been looking for another line to round out his book-jacket bio. And it was a great evening. He'd been a little disappointed when Beckett couldn't go, but the party was a good one and his acceptance speech had successfully gotten Patterson to spit out champagne from laughing. Which counted as a definite win.

Dull from exhaustion, he just grabs the first clean shirt he finds, dressing quickly and emerging into the kitchen just as he hears the knock at his front door. Early morning sunlight is just starting to gleam through the blinds, rich and gold and even though it's early, at least it's beautiful.

He opens it to find Kate. She gives him a tired smile and holds out a cup of coffee and what smells like a hot cinnamon roll. "Sorry to wake you so early, Castle. We've got a body."

The sun throws gold across her hair and lit up her fair skin, and his breath catches in his throat because everything in the world that he's ever thought beautiful is a pallid comparison to a tired Kate Beckett smiling, because she's smiling at _him_. He saves fictional people from fictional evil. But she's a real superhero who, on her slowest day, outshines him without trying.

The intimacy of seeing her so early is what floors him. Her hair is a little more tousled than usual, and his tired mind can't help but wonder if this is what it looks like swirled over her pillows and he pictures it on _his_ pillows and the image hits him so hard he has to take in a breath because _oh God_ he can see her lying there beside him and beneath him and making love with him and it wouldn't be so powerful or vivid but he already knows exactly how she tastes and he never _doesn't_ want to taste her tongue on his again, hot and wet and scared and _wanting_.

He breathes again because he'd forgotten how and takes a sip of the coffee she hands him. Naturally, she knows exactly how he likes it.

"You ready?"

"Uh – yeah." He pats his pocket – yep, keys are there – and follows her out the front door.

"Hey, congratulations on that award."

Oh. Right. He'd forgotten about the big, shiny glass trophy currently perched atop his desk. "Oh. Thanks."

"You deserve it." She smiles mischievously. "Hope the party didn't take too much out of you, Mr. Shakespeare. We've got a killer to catch."

He swallows at the sudden rush of – something – because he'd give up every party in the world if it meant Kate Beckett's smile was the first thing he saw every morning of every day for the rest of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Kate covers a yawn and stretches her shoulders. Sometimes mornings are slow. And it's far too quiet. Odd. Castle's late. He said yesterday he'd be coming in today. She makes a mental note to give him a strongly disapproving look when he comes rushing in, see what excuse he makes up this time. If she's lucky, it will involve the CIA. Possibly MI6. If he goes for Interpol or a transdimensional slip, she'll know he's _really_ screwed up.

"Hey, Beckett, we got a body."

Esposito's already pulling on his jacket. She tries texting Castle one last time – still no answer; he is in _big_ trouble when he finally comes running in – and she follows Ryan and Esposito out with a shrug. He can get there himself.

She's a little preoccupied as she steps out of her car, seeing the familiar yellow crime scene tape, flashing lights, uniforms talking to witnesses. Seeing Downing, the uniform obviously tasked to wait for her, she puts away her phone, reaches for a pair of gloves, and heads over. It's almost raining, a fine mist falling from the sky, and everyone's trying to hurry, holding up tarps and snapping forensic photographs and samples before the rain comes down harder and evidence washes away.

"This way, Detective." Officer Downing lifts the yellow tape so she can walk under it. "Male, early 40's, Caucasian, brown hair, average build. No wallet or watch, looks like a robbery. The coffeeshop owner says he's a regular. Didn't realize what was happening until he heard the shots outside."

They turn the corner towards the coffeeshop entrance – she recognizes it as a coffeeshop Castle usually stops at to pick up caffeinated bribery when he's in trouble – and she steps into observation mode.

There are evidence markers on the ground. It takes her a few seconds to connect them with the scene, going piece by piece, clean and logical. Three beside the three shell casings. One beside a crumpled pastry bag. Another one beside a mud-splattered bear claw near it. And one next to a bloodstained coffee carrier with two spilled cups beside it.

Two coffee cups.

Bear claw.

Male, early 40's.

Her blood turns to ice as she sees the sheet-covered corpse. Patches of blood have started to bleed through the white fabric, the pool of blood on the ground seeping slowly outward. The victim's about six feet tall.

Oh God.

_Castle_.

Her heart hammers so hard her chest hurts, the air suddenly so thick she's suffocating, her ears ringing shrilly. Castle. _Castle_.

_I never told you_.

Her teeth start chattering. She can't hear anything, can't hear whatever an oblivious Downing is trying to tell her. Her hands start shaking because she can't stop staring at the sheet. At the _body_ under the sheet. All she can see of the man who whispered _I love you Kate_ and begged her to stay with him are slick bloody patches in a sodden white cloth. Because he's gone.

And he died without knowing that she loves him.

She vaguely feels firm hands on her shoulders, realizes Ryan and Esposito have stepped in and are gently walking her away, around the corner into a more secluded spot, away from prying eyes. "Beckett? Beckett, you all right?"

She swallows, almost choking. She still can't breathe. She's dizzy. Her head is pounding.

"Just take a deep breath. It's okay."

She squeezes her eyes shut because she can't form words because it can never, ever be okay again. Her head is spinning so badly she leans over, putting her hands on her knees and trying to breathe because _oh God I have to call Alexis and Martha and oh God Castle just like Mom – _

A vision of her future flashes before her, a black-and-white future all cold and lonely and devoid of laughter and love with a red-haired girl sobbing as a casket is lowered into a grave and she can see herself crying alone in the storage room with no one to find her and she feels nausea sweep over her so violently she's afraid she might pass out.

She suddenly feels strong arms pulling her up, folding around her, feels herself wrapped warmly against a broad chest, a hand gently running over her hair. And her heart leaps into her throat because she knows these arms. And she opens her eyes to see Castle, warm and kind and concerned and _alive_, holding her gently, not knowing what's happened but worried about her.

"Kate? What's wrong?"

She lets out a shuddering breath. _Castle_.

Satisfied that whatever's wrong is now being fixed, Ryan and Esposito discreetly step back towards the crime scene to give her and Castle a little privacy. She lets herself cling to him because he's not cold or bloody or dead. He's not. It's not him.

He's fine.

Kate finally regains command of her voice, though it's still shaky. The panic attack is slowly subsiding, but her heart rate is still fast. "You – you were late, and you didn't answer your phone, and then I got here and saw the coffee on the ground and the body and I thought – "

"You thought it was me," he murmurs, comprehension dawning. "I'm so sorry, Beckett. I was running late and my phone's been on silent. I didn't even realize."

She takes in long, slow breaths, feeling herself slowly starting to calm down. He rubs her back, watching her, his face still worried.

It's only a few minutes before she calms down enough to do her job, running a hand over her hair and flashing Castle a grateful smile. He lets her go but stays close, as always, and with a last breath to steady herself, Kate takes one last glance back at him to make sure he's really there, and together they head for the crime scene to see who really died today.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Yes, I misled you last chapter on purpose. I wanted you to feel exactly the way she would. If I caused you respiratory or cardiac distress…it is for OUR HOLY ART, friends.

As always, my love to all you lovely readers.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Castle wheedles her into coming over for dinner that night with the combined persuasions of home-cooked food, good wine, keeping him company since the loft is otherwise empty for the evening, and the vague promise of something sinfully chocolatey for dessert, though her won't say what. And if she's honest with herself, Kate knows, half the reason she says yes is because for a few seconds this morning she thought he was a cold corpse surrounded by evidence markers and every time she shuts her eyes, she sees that sheet-covered body that still looks so much like him it physically hurts.

She pretends it's for the chocolate. Because she knows he's still a little worried about her.

He refuses to let her help with anything, merely pours wine and tells her to sit as he cooks. Dinner is quiet and pleasant and delicious, and as she watches him puttering and stirring and seasoning, Kate can't remember how long it's been since anyone except Castle has cooked for her.

"Here. Have a little more, you've barely eaten."

"No! It's delicious, Castle, but I'm full. Stop trying to fatten me up." She threatens him with her fork, because he's trying to get her to take _thirds_ when she already feels full and as he attempts a hurt puppy expression (which she'll never admit to him actually _does_ work on her most of the time) and sends her into a fit of laughter, Kate finds herself wondering what her mother would think of Castle.

(She's lying to herself. She figured out long ago that had the two of them met, Johanna would have absolutely loved Rick Castle and immediately started dropping subtle hints like So Katie, when's the wedding? and You know, Katie, when you're picking out baby names you have to consider the husband's name. Take _Castle_, for example…)

After dinner, he settles her on the couch and brings in more wine and some type of deliciously decadent chocolate cake that's so rich she's completely full after a single bite. As he's been doing all evening, he keeps her laughing at the stupidest things imaginable. She's mellow from the food and wine, and his story of how he ended up at a book launch party with a goat, a blueberry pie and no pants has her laughing so hard she has to wipe tears away.

He watches her laugh, his eyes sparkling with delight, and she sighs, trying to catch her breath, wiping her eyes. "I don't think I can ever look at a goat again."

He chuckles. "I aim to please."

Castle has a bit of frosting on his upper lip, and before she realizes maybe she shouldn't, she reaches out and wipes it off, her thumb grazing his mouth as he inhales sharply. Her stomach flips – the touch is so intimate – but something between desperation and courage keeps her from pulling back. Because for a moment this morning, she thought she'd never get to do this.

Before she can stop herself, she kisses him very softly, light as a breath, and she wouldn't have thought it could possibly be so sweet or make her chest ache like this. His mouth is soft, impossibly smooth.

It's over before she realizes it, sitting back just far enough to catch her breath, and biting her lip as she meets his eyes. He swallows, and she can see the question forming already. _What changed your mind?_

"I thought I lost you. And I never got the chance to – to tell you. That I care about you."

"Oh, Kate." He pulls her close. She can feel him press a kiss to her hair, and she sighs, so glad that it's not taking a ticking bomb or locked freezer this time because she's _missed_ this. She takes a deep breath, and he traces one hand over the line of her jaw, smiling at her flushed cheeks. "Now you know how I felt. I was a wreck."

Kate lets her fingers twine through his. "It's not – I don't think it'll be easy. I'm not perfect. I – I'm still in therapy. I still have a lot to deal with."

"I know. I don't want you to think you have to change just to be with me, Kate. You're already my whole world, exactly the way you are. And I know you're healing. I only want the best for you."

She kisses his cheek softly. "Thank you."

"We don't have to overturn everything. We already spend all our time together. Unless you _want_ me to cover your desk in rose petals every morning – in which case I certainly will – " she can't help but laugh – "we can just take it step by step."

"I'll let you know on that one. Rose petals might add to the décor, you know."

"Done." He kisses her forehead gently, and her heart is full, because she was worried, but now that she thinks about it, is there any possible way she could be more sure?

But today she promised herself she will no longer save it for death and near-death, because by the time they get there, it will no longer matter. If she keeps waiting for everything to be perfect, she'll be waiting forever. And today she realized that she can't risk the chance that something happens to one of them before forever comes. So she runs her thumb over his knuckles and screws her courage to the sticking-place.

Because he already did.

"Rick – I have to confess – I'm so sorry – " she swallows – "I lied. When I said it's all blank. It never was. I remember it all. And I remember you saying you love me. It's the last thing I remember before everything went black. And it was the first thing I remembered when I woke up."

He's staring at her, his face unreadable, and she's suddenly afraid. What if he's angry? She lied to him. Then avoided him for three months. He has a right to resent her. Panic bubbles up in her chest, tight and fierce. "I'm so sorry, Rick. I am. Because I love you, and I shouldn't have – "

He cuts her off mid-sentence, kissing her so thoroughly her head spins, his hands buried in her hair as he presses her back into the cushions. He kisses her hungrily, his tongue exploring her mouth warmly, the taste of chocolate and wine and _him_ stealing her breath away.

When he finally lets her go, she looks up to find him smiling, even as they both try to breathe evenly. Her heart is still hammering. "Oh, Kate. I'm not angry at you. Honestly, I tried to be. But I just – every time I see you now, every day, I just think how lucky I am to hear your voice. I had nightmares this summer. I dreamed I lost you for real. I don't think I'll ever forget your blood all over my hands."

"I had panic attacks." She squeezes his hand. "Up at my dad's cabin. I woke up one night hyperventilating so badly he wanted to take me to the hospital. It happened again a week later, but I didn't tell him."

"You were having one this morning, weren't you?"

She nods, feeling her hair rustle against his shoulder as he traces slow circles absently on her arm. "For a minute, I thought you were gone. I just – I couldn't breathe."

"I'm sorry, Kate." He presses a kiss to her temple. "Don't you worry. I'm right here."

"As if I could get rid of you." Her lips curve upward into a smile, because he's alive and warm and she never, ever wants to leave the circle of his arms.

He laughs. "Stuck with me, Detective."

"I'll keep you."

"As long as you're sure, Kate. I don't want you to think I'm pushing you."

She smiles, tracing light patterns over his chest. "I don't think I could possibly be more sure, Castle. I know you love me. You never really managed to hide it."

That makes him chuckle. "And here I thought I was being so smooth."

"Please. You _gaze_ at me."

"I – okay, yes. But in my defense, it's your fault. You walk in every day looking as beautiful as you do? I am _compelled_ to gaze at you adoringly. I have no choice." She flushes, feeling him brush her hair back so he can kiss her again. "I'd do anything for you."

"I know. You already have."

Kate has never been one to delude herself – she's seen too much tragedy to think life is fair – but _always_ is on his lips, _forever_ is in his eyes, and besides, she's not sure but she thinks it's possible that she fell in love even before he did.

* * *

><p><em>It has no resistance to sunlight.<em>

_The ruby and the sunrise are one._


End file.
